Guard Dog
by Susan M. M
Summary: Spike made a promise to Buffy before her death. A BtVS short story, with a cameo from Grimm. Buffy: "I'm counting on you ... to protect her." Spike: "Till the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight."


**Standard Fanfic Warning** that wouldn't last ten seconds in a court of law: These aren't my characters. I'm just building sand castles on Joss Whedon's beach. This story is an amateur work of fiction, done purely for my own amusement, and there is no intent to defraud the original copyright holders. This story originally appeared in the fanzine Grimmoire #2, from Ashton Press.

 **Guard Dog**

 _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_

by Susan M. M.

 **Sunnydale, California, September 2001**

"Coefficients. Standard form. When are we ever going to use this stuff?" Dawn Summers asked.

"Tomorrow on the test," retorted Marisol Garcia. "You ready?"

Dawn sighed. "As ready as I'm going to be." The young brunette glanced at the clock. "I've got to get home."

As she began gathering her things, her gaze fell on a picture of her and Marisol. It had been taken in junior high, when their class had gone to Disneyland. The picture showed Dawn and Marisol wearing Mickey Mouse ears, standing on either side of Buzz Lightyear, with Tomorrowland in the background.

Dawn remembered when that picture had been taken. She had a copy of it in her room. She remembered making friends with Marisol when she'd first moved to Sunnydale in fifth grade. Except that had never happened. She remembered it. Marisol remembered it. But it had never happened. She'd been human a little over a year. Before that, she had been nothing but a ball of eldritch energy. She knew she was - had been - The Key, a magical energy nexus that could open the barriers between dimensions. The monks of the Order of Dagon had transformed The Key into a living person, then mystically altered the memories of everyone who knew her. The Order of Dagon had made her sister to Buffy Summers, knowing that the Slayer would protect Dawn from the hell-god Glorificus. And then Buffy, slayer of monsters, vampires, and assorted "things that go bump in the night" had sacrificed herself to save Dawn.

As Dawn walked from Marisol's house back home, her mind ran in circles over the fact she wasn't really real, that her sister had died to protect her (and to save the world), that Buffy wasn't really her sister, and that she really wasn't ready for tomorrow's algebra test. She was too busy worrying to notice the tall, blond vampire that jumped out of the tree in Marisol's yard and followed her down the sidewalk.

Spike walked behind Dawn. He wore a long black leather duster. His hair was peroxide blond. His feet made no sound as they touched the pavement.

A Fyari demon - a tall, muscular humanoid with orange skin and curved horns - approached from behind. Spike turned his head and glanced at it. He pulled his left elbow forward, then jerked it back, hitting the demon in the gut. He pulled a silver knife from an inner pocket of his duster and whirled, slicing its throat.

The Fyari demon fell to the ground. Spike kicked its dying body into the bushes, out of sight.

Dawn continued down the sidewalk.

Another vampire came out of an alley. Spike just looked at him and whispered, "Slayer's sister. Off limits."

The vampire withdrew back into the alley. No sane vampire wanted to risk her wrath. Few vampires wanted to risk Spike's wrath either.

The Slayer's death had been hidden by her friends, and so most of the vampires and demons lurking in Sunnydale - the southern California town that had been built atop the Hellmouth - had no idea she was no longer a threat.

As he followed Dawn, Spike hummed Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 21 softly, very softly. It would ruin his reputation if people knew he liked Beethoven.

A black oak tree stretched its branches over the sidewalk. Spike heard the leaves rustling, but there was no wind. Glancing up, he saw something red in the branches. Swearing softly, he leapt up. He grabbed the lowest branch and pulled himself up. A Kith'harn demon balanced precariously on a branch above him. Spike climbed to reach the red-skinned demon. One hand held tight to the branch. With the other hand, he pulled out the knife that he'd used to slice the Fyari demon's throat. Kith'harn didn't have the vulnerability to silver that Fyari did, but they were vulnerable to sharp, pointy objects lodged in their eyes. Spike lunged forward, trying to poke the Kith'harn's eye out. The Kith'harn demon ducked. It lost its balance and fell into an empty trash can. Spike scurried down the tree and hurried to catch up with Dawn.

The next two blocks were quiet, and Spike was grateful. Then he heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw two human-like forms following them. Their faces were furry, with canine features. They wore blue jeans. One wore a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, the other a T-shirt that said 'Will Power' and had a picture of Shakespeare.

Spike muttered a word he wouldn't have dared said aloud in front of Dawn; Joyce Summers would've risen from the grave and washed his mouth out with soap if he had. "Blutbaden."

The Blutbaden growled at the sight of him. Spike's face vamped out, revealing his vampiric nature. He kicked the Led Zeppelin fan Blutbad into the literature buff Blutbad. Both lost their balance, tumbling to the ground. Spike reached down, grabbed their heads, and banged them together.

"Didn't think there were any Wesen this far south," he muttered. "This ain't your turf. Go home, or I'll see if Wesen blood tastes different from human."

Dawn was half a block ahead of him. Spike kicked both Blutbaden in the ribs to make sure they'd gotten the message, then hurried after her as she blithely continued on her way home.

"Situational awareness, Little Bit," Spike complained, too quietly for her to hear him. "I wish to bloody Hell you'd get some." If he hadn't been there ... To his relief and surprise, Dawn made it home safely a few minutes later.

"Hi, Dawn," Willow Rosenberg greeted her. "I was just about to call Mrs. Garcia to see if you needed a ride home."

"I walked. I'm not a little kid," Dawn reminded Willow. "I don't need to be chauffeured around everywhere."

"Sunnydale can be dangerous," Willow replied. The witch had been Buffy's best friend. She had moved into the Summers home after Buffy's death, partly to take care of Dawn, partly to escape both her own parents and the dorms at UC Sunnydale. She and the rest of the Scooby Gang - the Slayer's sidekicks, henchman and henchwomen, and Watcher - had been taking care of Dawn since her sister's death. Willow, Tara Maclay, Xander Harris, Anya Jenkins, and Rupert Giles had all agreed it was best not to inform Social Services that Dawn was alone since the death of her mother and sister. They weren't sure how far the monks' memory altering spell reached, and didn't know whether Hank Summers knew he had a second daughter.

"Puh-leaze. All I did was walk home from Marisol's place." Dawn took off her jacket. "I've done it a thousand times. Nothing happened."

Outside the Summers house, Spike stepped away from the window so that Willow and Dawn wouldn't see him. "Nothing happened," he repeated her words. "And nothing will happen to you, Little Bit, not whilst I'm around to stop it."

He'd promised Buffy that he'd protect Dawn. She'd died without releasing him from that promise.

* * *

 _Buffy: "I'm counting on you ... to protect her."_

 _Spike: "Till the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight."_

 _from the_ _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ _episode "The Gift," by Joss Whedon_


End file.
